


Venereal Transmission of Power

by SouthernContinentSkies



Series: Mirrorverse Barrayar [1]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: AU, Begging, Consent Issues, D/s, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mirror!Barrayar, Mirrorverse, Multi, Objectification, Orgasm Denial, Power Imbalance, Power Kinks, Voyeurism, but everyone enjoys themselves, dubcon, dubcon everywhere, feudalism fetish I guess?, like systemic ones, so plot and then porn I guess, social climbing is easier on your back, that is the content warning, the first half is worldbuilding, the second half is p"w"p
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernContinentSkies/pseuds/SouthernContinentSkies
Summary: Byerly wants a patron. Ivan wants a pet. Gregor wants control. Luckily, none of these things are mutually exclusive.Warning: Mirrorverse AU! These are not the ethical canon characters you are looking for.
Relationships: Gregor Vorbarra/Byerly Vorrutyer, Gregor/Ivan/Byerly, Ivan Vorpatril/Byerly Vorrutyer
Series: Mirrorverse Barrayar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884874
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	Venereal Transmission of Power

**Author's Note:**

> Note that, while I tagged this dubcon, the most serious consent issue is that no one involved with Gregor can really afford to say no, with varying degrees of implied consequences for refusal, ranging from loss of social status to potentially imprisonment or even death. The separate Ivan/Byerly is slightly less problematic. Slightly. This being fiction, everyone thoroughly enjoys themselves anyway, but yeah. Be Ye Warned.

When the Vorbarra armsman on duty showed Ivan into the inner parlor of the Emperor’s private suite, Gregor was already there. 

“Good evening, Ivan,” he said, without getting up. “Join me for a glass of wine.”

The Emperor gestured to the armchair across from him, with an already-poured glass on the end table next to it. Ivan complied; it wasn’t really a request, after all. 

Ever conscious of the tension between his name and his hypothetically inferior pedigree, Gregor Vorbarra kept a close eye on both his Xav-descended cousins. Miles was easy; no one would back a mutie Emperor in the first place, and if Gregor kept him busy with his galactic mercenary ops, he’d have no time for more domestic trouble. Ivan, a constant, photogenic presence in the capital, was a harder problem. He’d been very careful to aim too low, both professionally and socially, to be a threat, but Gregor still liked to bring him in on a regular basis for these loyalty check-ups, thinly disguised as cousinly chats.

His mother, of course, had suggested - repeatedly - that he use the opportunity to “get to know his cousin better.”

“It’s a shame you weren’t born a woman, darling,” she had said. “But if you can’t marry him, seduction is definitely the next best thing.” She should know; her long-standing liaison with the Chief of Imperial Security had proven highly beneficial to her own position in the capital. If nothing else, no one would dare assassinate Captain Illyan’s lover.

Ivan respected his mother’s political skill, but he generally did his best to ignore her advice anyway. His greatest ambition in life was not to be killed by politics, and in the snake pit of Vorbarr Sultana, that meant using every ounce of his social capital to go in the _opposite_ direction of the Emperor - at least to the extent the Emperor allowed. 

Gregor swirled the wine in his glass slowly, inhaled. “I hear you’ve been busy, cousin,” he said neutrally, looking at Ivan over the rim. “Anything I should know?”

Ivan repressed a nervous swallow. Gregor always did this: played grim and all-knowing, trying to catch Ivan out with a fishing expedition. It would have been an effective tactic, if Ivan didn’t spend half his energy making damn sure he had nothing to hide. Even though he already knew he was innocent, it was still unnerving. 

“Only with Byerly Vorrutyer, Sire,” he said lightly. He was guessing, but that affair was the only change in his life of any significance since his last command performance at the Residence. “No politics, as usual.” 

Gregor raised an eyebrow, his expression devoid of any real surprise. ImpSec had probably sent him a report before Ivan had even woken up the next morning. “Vorrutyer, Ivan, really? You and half my Ministers. A courier horse gets less of a workout.”

Ivan shrugged. “Just means he’s had a lot of practice. Besides, he’s not political beyond where his next meal ticket’s coming from. As long as you can afford him, he’s really low maintenance. I can live with that.” 

Byerly’s tendency to insinuate himself into Ivan’s personal space like a housecat, and his absolute shamelessness in begging for Ivan’s cock when he was horny - which apparently was always - were also significant factors in Ivan’s increasing fondness for him, but he wasn’t going to get into that level of detail without a direct order.

Gregor put down his wine glass and rested his chin in his hand. Ivan got the impression that the Emperor was restraining some sort of amusement.

“Were you aware,” said Gregor, and oh yes, he was definitely amused, “that Byerly Vorrutyer is one of ImpSec’s best civilian informants?”

Ivan’s mouth dropped open before he could stop himself. “Uh. No, Sire. No, I was not.” 

On reflection, this made perfect sense; despite his serial dependencies, Byerly moved around Vorbarr Sultana with no visible means of support, while somehow maintaining a wardrobe and a social life not inconsistent with being the grandson of a Count. An ImpSec salary would explain a lot of that gap.

“Hmm,” said Gregor, a shrewd half-smile playing around his lips. “You know, if Vorrutyer’s really going to settle down and get out of general circulation, Simon and Lady Alys are going to have to find someone else to get their political pillow talk from. High Vor agents with enough charisma to seduce an Admiral, _and_ enough humility to do it on their knees, are rarer than you might suppose.”

Ivan frowned. “Do you want me to stop seeing him? It’s fine, I’m not that attached.” He might be, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Gregor. Better disappointed than _inconvenient._

“Oh, not necessarily.” Gregor picked up his glass again. “But if you are going to retire one of Our most useful assets for your own personal use, I do insist on getting a cut myself. I can’t associate with him if he’s still working - it would destroy his disreputable cover - but if he’s done with that anyway…”

Ivan blinked. “You want me to bring him over here? Or… send him over?”

“Whichever you like,” said Gregor airily, in contrast to the sly look he sent in Ivan’s direction. “I’m sure I can remember to send him back to you, even if you’re not there.”

“I’ll come,” said Ivan quickly, and then cursed himself for his phrasing. Apart from the political issues, Gregor’s tendency towards orgasm denial for his partners was one of the reasons Ivan hadn’t given in to his mother’s suggestions in the first place.

Gregor probably knew exactly what Ivan was thinking, but he only smirked. 

“Ross will contact you with the invitation,” he said, referring to his secretary. “Do be on time.”

“Of course, Sire,” said Ivan. And then, seeing Gregor eye his chrono, “I can see myself out, if we’re finished.”

“Of course,” said Gregor. “Unless there’s anything else you think I should know.”

“I’m always completely candid with you, Sire,” said Ivan, with perfect honesty.

Gregor’s crooked smile held the sly satisfaction of someone who has already verified the truth, and found it, as expected, in his favor.

Ivan, relieved, bowed himself out.

—- 

On the way home in his lightflyer, Ivan considered the idea of Gregor’s “invitation.” He had wondered, when Gregor had first started ordering his Residence check-ins, whether the Emperor would insist on a more personal assurance of Ivan’s loyalty. Ivan wouldn’t have minded if he had. He had the normal Vor feelings about getting on his knees for his Emperor, which was to say that he would have enjoyed it on a purely feudal level, even if the Emperor in question hadn’t been his relatively young and attractive cousin.

Of course, this was one of the reasons why Tante Cordelia thought the whole Vor caste needed therapy, but then Tante Cordelia had also once encouraged his mother to send a troublesome Countess a “marital aide” contaminated with an ancient venereal disease, ostensibly to cause her Conservative husband to miss an important vote against Uncle Aral, so he wasn’t sure that she was all that qualified to judge other people’s mental health. (His mother, of course, had declined, on the grounds that the whole idea was much too Cetagandan to be fashionable.)

At any rate, he was sure the evening would be enjoyable. However, he did have some misgivings that Gregor might decide to keep Byerly for himself. Byerly certainly wouldn’t mind. From what Ivan could tell, his feelings about kneeling for powerful partners so transcended the normal Barrayaran inclination that it might almost be called a fetish, and the swathe he’d cut through Vorbarr Sultana reflected that. Moreover, he was clearly a… well, not really a _gold_-digger, Ivan supposed, though he certainly wouldn’t stick around anyone who couldn’t afford to pay his bills. A political capital-digger, whatever you’d call that. Ivan had enough clout himself to attract Byerly, and to keep him if he wanted to be kept, if only because of his various family members - but not from the Emperor, and not if Byerly really wanted to leave. 

Ivan sighed. This was far more complicated than he’d expected, when he’d let Byerly pick him up at an officer’s bar three months ago. Perhaps he should have stuck to swiving the bar girls.

Then again, it was entirely possible that even the bar girls’ blowjobs would have paled in comparison to By’s. Ivan hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Gregor he appreciated the man’s experience.

—-

As Ivan had expected, Byerly’s reaction to the news that the Emperor wanted to meet him personally was instant, unadulterated lust, hastily covered by a very thin veneer of nonchalance.

“Oh, dear,” he practically purred, “A personal invitation to the Residence! Ivan, darling, what on earth am I supposed to _wear?_”

“I don’t expect it will matter very much,” said Ivan drily. “Something without a lot of buttons, that’s my suggestion.”

By clucked his tongue at him. “Ivan, it’s beyond obvious you’ve never worn anything but a uniform. Clothes don’t matter _less_ if they’re meant to be taken off, they matter _more._ And so do first impressions. I’ve never met him in person, you know.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow at him. “Keep that up and you’ll be showing up in a sack. Or I’ll just tell Gregor you’re too disrespectful to bother with after all.”

“My apologies, Lord Ivan,” Byerly murmured, dropping his gaze demurely. “It’s just so dreadfully exciting, I forgot myself.”

“Hmm,” said Ivan, looking askance at him. Byerly always sounded faintly mocking when he said things like that, but at least the wording was technically acceptable. 

Ivan was walking a fine line already, performing well enough not to disgrace his name and heritage, but not so well as to provoke treasonous rumors. He couldn’t let his own dependents take liberties on top of it, or he’d end up the laughing stock of the capital, at best - and at worst, look weak enough to invite seriously annoying social leverage plots. Byerly was more than enjoyable enough to keep around, as long as he behaved himself, but he did require regular reminders of where exactly the line was.

“Byerly,” Ivan said suddenly, struck by a new and unwelcome thought. “Why did you go home with me in the first place?”

By blinked at him. “You were cute and you bought me a drink. Don’t you remember?”

“So it wasn’t a secret assignment from Gregor to investigate my loyalties,” Ivan said flatly.

Byerly’s eyes widened. “I…”

“I know you’re an agent,” said Ivan. “Or you were, at least. Gregor just told me.”

By coughed delicately. “I’m afraid, Lord Ivan, that without a more official source for such an idea, I couldn’t possibly comment.”

Ivan narrowed his eyes. He was fairly certain Byerly had just called him a liar, but if he _were_ with Ivan as an assignment, questioning his word would be literally his job - and calling him on it would be terrifically counterproductive.

“Suppose you _weren’t_ on Imperial assignment to my bedroom,” he said instead. “Why would you stay?”

By looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “So you can keep me in the manner to which I’d like to become accustomed, obviously. You’re young, you’re handsome, you’re rich enough to keep my tailor happy, and you’re the Emperor’s cousin. What more could I want?”

“A Count,” said Ivan. “An Admiral, a Minister… the Emperor.”

“Oh, well, the _Emperor,_” said Byerly dreamily. “I mean, yes, if _he_ were interested I’d throw you over in a heartbeat - no offense.”

“None taken,” said Ivan drily.

“As for the rest of them…” Byerly shrugged. “They’re all so dangerously political. There’s no point in snagging a patron if they just get themselves killed. My greatest ambition is to get _above_ politics, you know, not wallow around in it forever.”

“By being an ImpSec agent?” Ivan asked incredulously.

Byerly quirked an eyebrow. “If I can’t get away from politics by seducing a shield, my lord Ivan, then my next best option is to do it by forging a sword. Do you think I only write one copy of my reports? Hypothetically, of course.” 

The sly smile on his face was sharper than Ivan was used to seeing from him, and much more calculating. He suddenly had no trouble believing that this allegedly frivolous town clown was one of Simon’s most valuable domestic assets. For the first time, he wondered whether taking up with Byerly Vorrutyer might not be just a bit dangerous.

On the other hand, if By were serious about getting safely out of politics, Ivan was certainly his best bet. It might actually be beneficial for both of them. By would get a secure place of his own, close enough to power for protection, but not quite close enough to burn; and Ivan would get his very own ImpSec watchdog, with extensive training in detecting society treason plots. And excellent blowjobs. On reflection, this seemed like a win.

As long as Gregor didn’t decide to poach By out from under him. Ivan sighed inwardly, and dragged Byerly off to bed. If their time together was going to be Imperially limited, Ivan wasn’t going to waste any of it.

—-

The Emperor’s invitation arrived the next morning, via comconsole message from Ross. They were Requested (but not, technically, Required, Ivan noted wryly, as though that made any difference) to attend the Emperor at the Residence the next weekend, for a late evening time slot that was clearly (hopefully) Gregor’s last meeting of the day. That was a longer gap than Ivan had expected; perhaps something important had come up. He deliberately avoided considering what it might be.

On the appointed day, Ivan made sure to get himself ready early, in case he needed to chivy Byerly through a quicker rendition of his hair routine. He needn’t have bothered, as it turned out; in a rare fit of punctuality, By was coiffed and dressed with a full half hour to go.

Unfortunately, he then devolved into pacing around the parlor like a caged animal, to Ivan’s considerable annoyance. He was trying to get through an inventory report for work, and the constant noise and movement in his peripheral vision was not helping.

“Byerly!” he interjected, after the fourth such circuit. “We aren’t leaving for twenty minutes, whatever you do in the meantime. For god’s sake, _sit down._ If you keep interrupting my light like that, so help me, I’m going to spank you.”

That got By’s attention, though sadly not quite in the desired way. 

“Goodness, Lord Ivan!” he said, actually batting his eyelashes. “Do you promise?”

But he sat anyway. Ivan rolled his eyes and went back to his report, choosing to ignore the incessant foot-tapping that started up soon afterwards.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Ivan put the report aside and stood up. Byerly popped instantly to his feet beside him, almost vibrating with anticipation. Ivan put up with this for a handful of steps, until By’s foot clipped his ankle at the door, nearly tripping him.

“Byerly!” he hissed, snaking out a hand to grab the back of his neck and shake him, just a bit. “_Calm down._”

By jerked to a stop, his breath hitching. Ivan increased the pressure, and watched the tension drain out of By’s shoulders as if he’d opened a drain.

Ivan sighed. “And here I used to think you were low maintenance.”

“Mmm,” By breathed, clearly floating just a bit already. “But I’m worth it.”

Ivan looked him over. Perfectly tailored suit, just outlandish enough to suggest the wearer preferred not to work for a living, and just embellished enough to suggest that he aspired to be decorative instead; perfectly arranged hair, artfully disheveled in a way that invited you to run your fingers through it, and suggested that somebody else already had; and a perfectly plush mouth, that promised any sinful thing you might imagine, and that Ivan knew was entirely capable of delivering on it.

“Yeah,” he said, a bit hoarsely. “I suppose you are.”

—-

When they arrived at the Residence, the armsman on duty took them straight to Gregor’s bedroom, bypassing the parlor entirely. Ivan was grateful; he didn’t think he could manage any version of their usual politically pointed small talk with Byerly this keyed up right next to him.

When they entered, Gregor was sitting in an incongruously worn armchair by the fireplace, leafing idly through a stack of flimsies. Given the hour, Ivan was not surprised to see him already in his shirt sleeves, though he still wore his boots.

“Ivan,” the Emperor said, putting the flimsies aside and standing to greet him. “And you brought Vorrutyer with you.” His eyes raked over Byerly, taking in the suit, the hair, and, Ivan surmised from his narrowing eyes, definitely the mouth.

“Of course,” said Ivan. “I could hardly have kept him at home, once he heard you were interested in seeing him.”

“Is that so,” Gregor murmured. He stopped in front of Byerly and cupped his hand under By’s jaw, lifting By’s chin and stroking his thumb over the shapely cheekbone. 

“He really is exquisite,” the Emperor continued, speaking to Ivan and over Byerly completely. By shivered slightly at the contrast. “It’s no wonder half the Council of Ministers found him irresistible.”

Ivan looked over at By, whose blown pupils showed exactly how much he was enjoying this attention. “Wait til you hear how he sounds. He’s responsive enough for me, I’m sure he’ll pull out all the stops for his Emperor.”

By’s sudden indrawn breath betrayed his aroused concurrence.

Gregor cocked his head, favoring Byerly with a calculating smile. Then he moved his hand from Byerly’s jaw to his hair, using his grip to pull Byerly in for a very thorough kiss. Taken off guard, By gasped, and moaned into his mouth. 

Ivan watched in logistical appreciation as Gregor maneuvered himself and Byerly back towards the bed, without breaking the kiss. When they were close enough, Gregor disentangled his hand from Byerly’s hair, and brought it around to give By’s cheek a last, gentle stroke. Then he stepped back, and shoved Byerly down to sprawl on the bed.

Byerly moaned in residual enjoyment, tilting his head back and stretching his arms over his head in a sinuous, writhing gesture of complete submission. Ivan noticed, approvingly, a bottle of lubricant peeking out from behind a pillow near By’s hand. Good: that way none of them would have to hunt for it later.

“He does seem to have a bit of a power kink,” noted the Emperor drily. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh, he’s a slut for it,” said Ivan. “He’d do anything you wanted, if you asked.”

“Hmm,” said the Emperor. He looked over at Byerly, disheveled on the bed, whose breathing had already sped up at Ivan’s words. “Would you indeed?”

“Oh, yes, Sire,” Byerly breathed. “I _live_ to serve.”

The corner of Gregor’s mouth twisted upward. “Touch yourself.”

Byerly’s lips parted, and his hands went instantly to his trouser fastenings. He didn’t undo more than the bare minimum needed to take himself out, and when his hand wrapped around his length, he barely suppressed a moan.

“No, don’t hold back,” murmured Gregor. “Ivan just told me you make the most delectable noises, Vorrutyer; I want to hear them.”

Byerly’s breath hitched, and came back out in a whine. He was already wet at the tip, Ivan was not surprised to see. By’s favorite things in life were power, vanity, and exhibitionism; being shown off to the Emperor hit every one of his kinks.

As By stroked himself, slowly but firmly, with increasingly noisy accompanying gasps, Gregor stalked around the corner of the bed, undoing his cuffs. Rather than proceeding to the front placket, however, he merely rolled up his sleeves, leaving the rest of his clothing intact. Ivan wondered if he only intended to watch; that would be both a thrill and a considerable source of performance anxiety.

By the time Gregor arrived at the side of the bed, bracing his arm against the canopy to lean inwards for a better view, Byerly’s small gasps and whines had increased in pitch and intensity in a way that suggested imminent climax. His eyes had fallen closed, and his mouth open.

Ivan, who knew what was coming, shifted slightly for a better view of his face.

“Stop,” said the Emperor, with the quiet assurance of absolute entitlement.

Byerly’s eyes flew open, and his hand jerked away from his cock as if burned, falling down to clutch convulsively as the sheets. His next whine was almost a sob. His cock smacked up against his still-buttoned shirt, angry and red.

The edge of Gregor’s mouth curled upwards, and he gazed fondly down at Byerly’s flushed, distraught face in gratified sadistic satisfaction.

“Ivan,” he said, with just a hint of roughness to his voice. “You know him better. Why don’t you demonstrate your Byerly’s particular talents for me, hmm?”

So the Emperor did want to watch. Well, Ivan could work with that - as long as he was clear on what, exactly, he was supposed to do.

“Um, when you say, ‘demonstrate,’ what exactly -”

“On all fours, I think, Ivan,” interrupted Gregor, retreating back to the armchair by the fire.

“Right,” said Ivan, getting the general idea. 

Having seen how ridiculous it looked when someone tried to take their own trousers off while lying down, Ivan removed most of his own clothes on his way to the bed. Byerly’s proved more difficult; all his motor coordination was apparently being taken up by his efforts to keep his swollen cock from brushing too badly against the bedsheets.

Eventually, however, Ivan maneuvered By onto his hands and knees on the bed, facing Gregor in his chair.

“Keep your head up,” Ivan told him. “The Emperor wants to see how pretty you look when you’re getting fucked. I’m sure you can oblige him, hmm?”

“Oh, _yes,_ my lord,” By managed breathily. That was probably the most verbal he’d get for the rest of the evening. Ivan figured he’d been mostly gone since the Emperor had ordered him to touch himself. That was fine; neither Ivan nor Gregor were really interested in listening to him talk.

Ivan hunted around in the bedsheets for a minute and came up with the lube he’d seen earlier. He slicked up the fingers of one hand and slid two of them straight into Byerly, prompting a gasp. 

Knowing the show Gregor wanted to see, Ivan made sure to target By’s prostate more than he would have otherwise, though he was careful not to push him too close to the edge. He was rewarded with a series of increasingly desperate whines. When their pitch got concerningly intense, Ivan pulled out and waited a moment, causing Byerly to drop his head to the mattress and groan. When he was sure that continuing wouldn’t do anything to ruin Gregor’s fun, he pushed three fingers back in, avoiding any unnecessary stimulation this time.

As the stretching went on, By relaxed into it, sinking further and further into the sheets. Ivan ignored the break in posture. He adored By’s shameless responsiveness, and since he was certain Gregor would as well, he could afford to be indulgent. 

When By moved as if to touch himself, however, Ivan smacked his arm away immediately.

“Really?” he admonished. “The _Emperor_ told you to stop, By, wait til you’re told.”

Byerly made a noise into the sheets, halfway between a sob and a whine, but he moved his hand back up towards his shoulder. Once he was sure By had his arms under himself, Ivan fisted a hand in his hair, and pulled his head up again to give Gregor a look at his face.

Gregor’s eyes darkened. “Such lovely desperation, Ivan. Pity he’s not better behaved.”

“Oh, he’ll behave,” said Ivan darkly. “He just needs a few reminders of his place now and then.”

“He is a Count’s grandson,” said Gregor, with faint amusement.

“So are a lot of people,” said Ivan, pulling his fingers out and slicking up his own cock. “It sort of loses its punch when you’re the youngest son of a youngest son, trying to chat up the Emperor’s cousin.” He knew better than to say, “the grandson of a Prince.” Nothing killed the mood on Barrayar, or the participants, like implied treason.

Luckily, Gregor didn’t try to keep up the conversation once Ivan started fucking By in earnest. He didn’t touch himself either, Ivan noticed dimly, which probably meant at least one more round for By afterwards. Just as well; hopefully that would give Ivan time to collect himself before he had to fly them both home.

As promised, By was making exquisite noises: little gasps and whines, and the occasional visceral moan when Ivan pressed in faster or harder than usual. He made an admirable effort to keep his own head up, too, which was lucky, as Ivan’s hands were busy bracing his hips. Gregor, his eyes glued to By’s face, clearly appreciated it. Ivan wasn’t surprised. He knew exactly what that view looked like, and while it was especially gratifying when it was being caused by your own cock, he imagined it was fairly captivating from the outside as well.

As he approached his own orgasm, Ivan looked at Gregor in apprehension, but the Emperor merely smirked, and gave Ivan a small nod of permission. Thank god. He’d never had to try that game while actually fucking someone, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could manage to stop in time, even for the Emperor.

With a groan, Ivan spent himself inside By, his hips stuttering to an uneven halt. By whined in frustration, arching his back and clenching his muscles in search of something more satisfying. Ivan hissed at the overstimulation, and pulled out carefully, leaving By dripping a little on the sheets.

By let out a choked sob. “Sire,” he let out entreatingly, “_please._”

Ensconced in his armchair, the Emperor smiled in absolute satisfaction. 

Ivan marveled at Gregor’s control. If it weren’t for the slightly hooded eyes and the prominent bulge in his trousers, it would be impossible to tell that he was even aroused. The man could probably sit through a Joint Council meeting with an erection and no one the wiser, Ivan thought, and then immediately wondered if he ever had. There was no desk on the dais, but the smaller Council of Ministers room in Vorhartung had front panels on the tables down to the floor, that it would be trivial to hide some kneeling courtier behind… 

Ivan shook his head to clear it. It wouldn’t do to get distracted from the real Emperor in front of him, even by a fantasy of the same man.

In the armchair, Gregor cocked his head, as if considering what to do with Byerly next.

“He has such a pretty mouth, Ivan,” the Emperor said. “Can he use it?”

“God yes,” said Ivan, and then immediately had to stop By from falling head first off the foot of the bed in his enthusiasm to prove himself.

With some effort, Ivan arranged Byerly on the floor at Gregor’s feet, and then retreated to the foot of the bed to watch. 

Byerly, on his knees, looked up at the Emperor with the sort of devotion Ivan usually associated with the more realistically-depicted saints and icons, awaiting instruction from his Imperial master. Gregor, in turn, regarded him with an assessing half-smile, lazily undoing his trousers.

Apparently reaching some conclusion, the Emperor nudged Byerly’s knee with his foot, arranging their legs so that By was straddling one of Gregor’s. By gasped as the position put his cock in contact with the leather of the Emperor’s boot, and his hips jerked. Gregor bent down to fist a hand sharply in his hair.

“_Don’t_ come,” he said, with finality, and then dragged By’s head to his crotch as he sat back.

If the noises By had made while getting fucked by Ivan had been enjoyable, the ones he made while sucking the Emperor’s cock were downright ecstatic. Gregor clearly appreciated them as well; one particularly enthusiastic moan from Byerly made him drop his head back and let out an answering groan himself. His hands were wrapped in By’s hair, tightening and releasing convulsively. By, completely lost in his task, didn’t seem to notice, much less mind.

On the bed, Ivan fought the urge to touch himself. Gregor wouldn’t appreciate it, and he’d be able to go another round with By after they got home. Provided they both went home. He was certainly enjoying the show, but for the sake of his own future plans, he might wish By’s performance were just a little less successful.

Finally, Gregor’s breathing sped up, and his hands settled on their tightest grip, holding By’s face all the way down. His orgasm hit him with a gasp, and he slumped back, boneless, his hands releasing their grip on By’s hair and falling to his own thighs.

Byerly choked just a bit when Gregor let him up, gasping in air. His hips were still moving, almost instinctively, and he whined again when Gregor moved his leg away.

Ivan looked down at him. He was still hard, his cock red and swollen enough to match his lips.

“Are you going to let him come?” he asked Gregor curiously. He had been surprised by Byerly’s apparent enthusiasm for that aspect of Gregor’s attentions; clearly he wouldn’t mind either way.

Gregor hummed in response. His smile had an edge to it that might be cruel, if Ivan didn’t know far too well that Gregor’s favorite thing was his partners’ desperate enjoyment. 

“No,” he said, with enough smug affection to show he knew exactly what effect this would have. “He can wait.”

Byerly whimpered.

Ivan glanced sideways at Gregor. The Emperor had enjoyed this whole exercise a lot more than Ivan would have expected. 

“Are you going to keep him?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He really didn’t want to leave Byerly in the Residence. By himself would love it, but Ivan would have to start all over again with someone else, and also put up with his mother’s disappointment that someone else had gotten to Gregor first. Which would be completely unfair; it was absolutely not Ivan’s fault that he couldn’t hold a candle to Byerly Vorrutyer’s desperate authority kink. But his mother would find a way to blame him anyway.

Confirming his already thoroughly-explored predilections, Byerly’s eyes widened, and he arched his neck to look demurely through his lashes at the Emperor.

The Emperor, meanwhile, was clearly considering it. “No,” he said at last, with what sounded suspiciously like a touch of regret. “I’m afraid he’s not quite respectable enough for the Residence, even in retirement. You can have him.”

Ivan let out a subtle breath of relief.

“Don’t keep his schedule too full, though,” Gregor continued, stroking the back of his hand down By’s cheek. “We’ll definitely be doing this again.”

Byerly’s eyes fluttered closed, and he turned his head to kiss the Emperor’s hand. Above him, the Emperor’s face wore a very indulgent smile.

Ivan sighed under his breath. “Of course, Sire.” 

He would rather not have Gregor so preoccupied with someone so close to him - it held too much potential for messy politics and even messier personal jealousy - but at least it would keep By happy. Contrary to what he’d said earlier, Byerly Vorrutyer was, in fact, incredibly needy and high maintenance, and if he could foist some of that upkeep onto Gregor, it might be a win all around.

—-

Back in Ivan’s flat, By moved to put his hands on Ivan as soon as the door shut. Ivan wasn’t surprised. He’d had to threaten Byerly with no orgasms for the next month just to keep his hands off both himself and Ivan in the lightflyer.

“_Byerly,_” said Ivan reprovingly, shaking him off. “You can’t even wait til I take my coat off? Have some self-control.”

Byerly, whose own coat was already slung carelessly over the foyer’s side table, sank to his knees, legs apart.

“Ivan,” he moaned, using every ounce of his ImpSec seduction training, “please.”

“You’re shameless,” said Ivan, looking down at him with equal parts amusement and arousal. “Are you sure a mere Lord is good enough for you, after the Emperor? I’m only his third cousin, you know. Who knows whether I’ll even be able to get you off at all.”

By’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, you’re more than enough for me, my lord Ivan,” he breathed, managing to sound entirely genuine for once. “I’ll prove it to you, if you let me, _please._”

Ivan hummed under his breath. Denial wasn’t really his kink, but if it was this useful in keeping By in line, he might have to start at least dabbling in it.

“Fine,” he said, as though he would ever have considered just going to sleep, with Byerly in such a mood. “But not here. I absolutely cannot have sex _in the foyer,_ for god’s sake, how completely gauche. Go wait for me in the bedroom, and don’t you dare touch yourself til I get there.”

By managed to scramble elegantly to his feet, already tearing off his hastily-retied cravat. Too preoccupied for snark, apparently, he merely shot a smoldering look over his shoulder on his way out the door.

Ivan, having had his first orgasm already, had the self control to actually hang his coat up in the closet, and Byerly’s, before sauntering out to join his desperate pet. He’d have By undress him, he thought, and then give him one of those excellent blowjobs he’d watched Gregor enjoy so much earlier. And then, probably, make By beg for his own orgasm, just a bit - he really was very good at it. And then Ivan would probably have to let him come, if only because he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep with By writhing around him in frustration.

Sometimes, being the Emperor’s cousin was a nuisance, Ivan thought. But this part - this, he could get used to.

**Author's Note:**

> It was actually incredibly difficult to write dark!Ivan. I have hundreds of words of deleted scenes where I forgot and made the Ivan/Byerly too fluffy. Oh, Ivan. That fun-loving, laissez-faire attitude just really resists Mirroring.
> 
> For more about my conception of Mirrorverse Barrayar, including a whole cast of character bios, please see my [tumblr post.](https://southern-continent-skies.tumblr.com/post/188950766196/mirror-barrayar)


End file.
